A Letter "From Somewhere in France." To be continued.
Reg C Young, 11 Barker Road, Subiaco.
This is an interesting article found while researching and writing on Trove, the database at the National Library of Australia.
The article states the letter copied below is from a soldier from Subiaco in Western Australia fighting in Europe during World War 1 in 1916. The soldier and his mother lived at 11 Barker Road, Subiaco. The letter describes the leave from a soldier's perspective.
Curious I wanted to find out more about Reg C. Young and his family. The usual sources were checked. The Post Office Directories of W.A. show there was no 11 Barker Road, Subiaco during the World War One years. While there were many individuals and families with the name Young none lived at 11 Barker Road Subiaco. There was no Reg C. Young or Reginald C. Young registered in the National Archives of Australia where records of men who served are kept. The lack of information doesn't mean there isn't a Young family with a Reg C. Young maybe just at a different address.
The article is from Trove, the database of the National Library of Australia. No copyright
Sunday Times, 30 April 1916.
A West Australian Soldier
Writes to His Mother From "Somewhere in France"
Writing from "Somewhere in France" to his mother, at 11 Barker-road Subiaco, Reg. C. Young (he is well known in yachting circles here) dilates on "Home on leave" "The most absorbing topic at the from is 'leave'. No matter where you are at the rail head, in billets or in the fire trench - the only question is 'Have you been home on leave ?' If answered in the affirmative, 'Lucky man ! Did you enjoy it ?' If answered negative, 'When are going?' as one who has been home on leave, I will try and describe my feelings on various occasions. When leave was first mention great excitement prevailed, and the questions arose as to how many were going and in what order. Many were the suggestions put forward, but the OC tabooed them all, and sent ideas of his own. At last came the da when the first lucky me shouldered their packs and rifles, and amid much demonstration of the rest of the company not in the trenches set off for the train for England.
'In the subsequent draw for positions, I was luckily drawn fourth in my sections, and high hopes for Christmas leave. My feelings were alternatively at a high and ebb feeling to the frequent postponements, because of submarines in the Channel, rough weather or German offensives. As my turn drew near I was sent away with section to another part of the lines and my hopes dropped to zero, as out work was urgent. Frequent rumors which drifted from departments did ten to raise my hopes and I had practically reconciled myself to the fact that I was spending Christmas in the trenches. Suddenly one day, however when my knees deep in mud an orderly handed me my pass together with two of men and orders to proceed on leave at once.
Great was our excitement and after much bustling and joking we got our valises packed in our dug-outs, and to the best wishes of the rest of the section set off down the communication trench, is pouring rain, but with light hears.
We did not relish our tramp to the rail head in the rain, but before getting far we got a lift on the waggon lines from a battery. After a rough ride over a road strewn with shell-holes we eventually reached the railway, and spent the night in an artillery dug-out. At 5 o'clock next morning and spent the night in an artillery dug-out. A 5 o'clock next morning we reported to the Railway Transport Officer, and boarded the train for the first stage of our journey to London.
'I had travelled in French trains in peace times and them very fast but this train was in limit in slowness, taking 15 hours to do 102 miles. It was long train of 55 coaches carrying some 300 troops on leave. Men frequently jumped out of the front coaches and picked mistletoe catching the coaches catching the rear coaches again and those armfuls of mistletoe were taken to London with us. En-route we were given coffee and cream by the Y.M.C.A. people who are doing great work amongst the troops in France and Flanders.
At last, at 11.30 p.m. we pulled up at the wharf ready for embarkation, the first stage of our journey completed. After passing through the inspection room, where selected men's packs are searched we boarded the streamer for Merry England. At 12.30 a.m. we left the wharf, and after a fast but rough trip across Channel we again sighted England's shores, after an absence on active service of many months. Everybody was merry and light-hearted as the steamer drew up to the wharf and packs were shouldered right willingly, and a scramble began for the gangway.
At last I was ashore and settle in the train, and oh what a sigh of relief I heaved to be in England again in English train free from death in various forms for a few days at least. At 8 a.m. to minute the trainload of happy men drew out of the station in glorious sunshine for its two hours run to Waterloo. As we passed through the green fields, villages, and towns and at length London suburbs out fellings rose to a high pitch, and at all when the train drew in at Waterloo Station we were rushed by the waiting crowd, who made a great demonstration, our feelings knew no bounds. Strong men wept when they met their wives. mothers, or sweethearts and others shouted for the very joy of seeing London again and in the festive season. To describe the scene at the station at the arrival of the Christmas train from the trenches is beyond my powers. I, no one to meet, set for a glorious hot bath and other luxuries.
"I will rapidly pass over the Christmas days spent in luxury comfort, cleanliness, and at theatres and amusements and come to the time when I had to return. As the hour for my departure to the trenches drew near my spirits drooped, and it was very poor spirit that I shouldered my pack and set of for Waterloo. Once again I must say that I cannot describe the station scene at Waterloo occasioned by the departure of the daily train carry its human freight back to the trenches. I leave it to your imagination to picture married men leaving their wives and children, young men leaving their mothers and sweethearts, and returning to a shell swept and ruined land, where death lurks at one and every turn.
At last the moment of departure drew near, and feelings ran high as the long train carrying some thousands of Britain's bravest and best drew out of the station to the good wishes and cheers of the swaying crowd on its long and weary journey to the trenches. We crossed the same night in a fast steamer, which was before the are on the flushing and after a two hours tramp in mud and rain we arrived at out dug-outs only to find our had moved on another eight or nine miles. At last, tire and cross with the world at large and the Germans in particular, we reached our comrades.
"So ended my first leave from the front."
